


The Red Umbrella Speakeasy

by EdgyDorito, Gameiplier, Kikithehousemoose, maricharde, TFLatte



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: 1920s AU, Background Relationships, Multi, Prohibition AU, Round Robin, blupjeans, taakitz
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-10
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2019-03-03 06:24:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13335330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EdgyDorito/pseuds/EdgyDorito, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gameiplier/pseuds/Gameiplier, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kikithehousemoose/pseuds/Kikithehousemoose, https://archiveofourown.org/users/maricharde/pseuds/maricharde, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TFLatte/pseuds/TFLatte
Summary: A pair of twins runs a speakeasy in the middle of the prohibition era. And their clientele is varied, to say the least. Love! Alcohol! Jazz!... Murder?(This fic is a Round Robin thing - there are six authors, each of us writes a chapter, and then the cycle resets. We don't consult our chapters with eachother. It's a wild ride. Join us on it.)





	1. Kitten on the Keys

**Author's Note:**

> The first chapter's author is @maricharde. Hope you like it!

He lost track of time again.

It was supposed to be just one more body and then finishing some papers. But now he realizes it's almost 8 pm, and he's still here, the smell of embalming fluid clinging to him even in the small office, the whole building silent.

He signs one more document with a loopy, elegant signature and cleans the desk. He picks up his hat and coat, and turns off the lights as he leaves. Walking outside into the cold air he regrets not having an umbrella with him: it's pouring. He turns around to lock the heavy black door behind him. There's an elegant golden plaque on it: "T _he Raven Funeral Home._ "

"You're unbelievable," says a familiar voice. He turns around, and stands face to face with his sister. "We told you to stop working so late. It's worrying."

She's standing in the middle of the cobbled, empty street, wearing a long dark green dress under a light brown coat, her hair perfect, holding an umbrella. Kravitz rolls his eyes and walks up closer to her. She holds out the umbrella so he can hide under it too.

"And I told you I'm fine and it's none of your business," he replies, without malice.

"Of course it's my business." She kisses his cheek. "You're my little brother. And you’re family too. Come on, we're gonna have some fun." She starts walking, and he has no choice but to follow.

"Our definitions of fun are very different," he says weakly.

"Drinks and music. You like that. Stop complaining." She gives him a bright smile. "Ed found a new place. We want to check it out."

"And you, of course, have no secret agendas." He raises an eyebrow. She just winks instead of replying.

A moment later they stand outside a café. The lights are on inside, the seats are soft, the pastries look great. And yet there's barely anyone inside, except the barista - a young, dark haired girl, looking very bored - and Edward, sitting alone by one of the tables, drinking a small coffee. Lydia pulls Kravitz inside, and waves excitedly at their brother. He stands up as soon as he sees them.

"Still committed to the aesthetic, huh?" he says instead of _hello_ , looking Kravitz up and down, unimpressed at the sight of his black coat, suit and hat.

"We can't all look like parrots," Kravitz shoots back, and Edward smiles.

"Good to see you." He pulls out a slip of paper out of his pocket. "Let's do it."

Kravitz watches, puzzled, following Edward as he comes up to the phonebooth in the back of the room. He reaches for the phone, and dials a number from the paper. And then the back wall of the phonebooth slides open.

There's a staircase leading down behind it, and a young cheerful looking man sitting on a stool. He's holding a book - something about engines, looks like, with complicated diagrams and tiny text - and he gives all three of them a wide smile.

"Welcome to the Red Umbrella Speakeasy," he says. "Please, go downstairs and enjoy yourself. If the piano man starts playing _Kitten On The Keys_ , it means the police are coming and it's time to bolt." He winks, and lets them through.

Downstairs they find a huge room absolutely filled with people. The piano player looks tormented by the noise, but keeps playing on a little stage in the back. There's a wide bar with a very handsome bartender, and Kravitz lets himself notice that. Blonde hair, freckles, bright lilac shirt, black suspenders. Their eyes meet briefly, before he has to start taking another order.

They miraculously find an empty booth - the twins seem to always be surrounded by those kinds of little miracles - and sit down, waiting for the waitress, who's running between the tables, instead of joining the crowd swarming the bar. A moment later she comes up to take their order. She's a carbon copy of the bartender, down to the haircut. She’s wearing a fiery red tasselled dress, which ends just before her knees, and holding a little notepad.

"Hello! My name is Lup, I'll be your waitress this evening." She flashes them a smile. "I trust Avi at the door already told you how things work around here. What would you like?"

"Three gin rickeys, darling," Lydia replies for all three of them. She looks the waitress up and down and smirks.

"Don't," Kravitz says, knowing that smile. She purses her lips and rolls her eyes. The waitress leaves, and comes back with their order a moment later. She puts their drinks down, wishes them a good evening, and turns to leave.

"That dress is so tacky," Lydia comments, as soon as she does. Kravitz puts a hand on his forehead, praying the girl doesn't hear, doesn't care, or doesn't dare reply. His prayers are not answered.

Lup turns right back. She glares at Lydia, putting a hand on her hip.

"Excuse me?" she says. "My dress is tacky? My dress is fucking great. You, however, look like you just slithered over here from some pit in the woods."

Lydia stands up. Edward puts a hand on his chest. Kravitz takes a huge sip of his drink. Everyone is silent for a long while. And then the waitress turns on her heel and leaves.

"Nice one, Dia," Kravitz comments, crossing his arms. "Do you two really have to do this?"

“I’m not letting this go,” Edward mumbles, taking a sip of his drink. Then he notices Kravitz’s disapproving expression. “What? Fine, let’s change the subject. How are you?”

Kravitz puts his chin in his hand and shrugs. “I’m fine. Same old.”

“I had to find him at work today.” Lydia contributes. She finally stopped glaring at the waitress. “Again.”

Edward dramatically rolls his eyes. “You have to stop doing that.”

“It’s not like I have anything better to do at home.” He shrugs. Home is empty and boring. And every book he has no energy to finish, or every time he looks at the piano which he hasn't touched in a really long time, or every time he burns a meal, he feels guilty. It’s better to work.

“Then come live with us.” Lydia reaches for his hand across the table. He takes it, and looks her in the eyes.

“Fuck no,” he replies softly. The twins groan in unison.

“Come by for dinner at least,” Edward suggests. “The day after tomorrow. It’s gonna be fun.”

“Maybe,” Kravitz replies, and thankfully it’s good enough. He takes a sip of his drink, and glances towards the bartender again. He’s currently juggling bottles. Hm.

“Good, that’s settled then.” Edward finishes his drink and stands up. “I’ll be right back.”

“How are you doing?” Kravitz asks when he’s gone. Lydia smiles.

“Brilliant,” she replies. “Business is booming. And we went to a fantastic party two days ago. One guy almost broke the chandelier. A bunch of people ended up in the pool in their clothes. You know, the usual.”

“Well. I don’t know what else I expected.” Kravitz smiles too.

“You should come to one of the parties! Maybe you’d meet someone fun.” She wiggles her eyebrows.

“I don’t need to meet anyone fun,” he replies stubbornly. “I’ll come by for dinner, but I’d rather stay away from the parties, thanks.”

“Fine.”

A moment later Edward comes back, and he sits down, looking extremely pleased with himself. He looks at Lydia. She raises an eyebrow. He nods, and she grins approvingly.

Kravitz frowns, watching that exchange. He doesn’t like it. “Ed,” he says. “My dearest brother. What did you do?”

“She insulted us,” Edward replies coldly. “They brought this on themselves.”

As soon as he finishes speaking, the music changes, and it seems everyone in the room recognizes the tune. _Kitten on the Keys_. They calmly finish their drinks and stand up. A door behind the bar swings open, revealing a tunnel leading outside. The bartender and the waitress start rushing to hide the bottles of alcohol, frantically replacing them with water and soda.

Kravitz stares at his siblings. They look awfully proud of themselves. Lydia shrugs when she notices his look.

“Come on. It's obvious we wouldn't be able to do any business with them. Loosen up a bit.” She tosses her hair and stands up. “Shall we?”

Two minutes later they're already walking away from the speakeasy, as the police cars appear.

 

***

 

Taako isn’t usually an early riser. But yesterday evening was stressful, and he spent the night tossing and turning, constantly expecting the cops to show up and arrest him in his own home. After waking up for what felt like the hundredth time he decided not to try to go back to sleep again. So it’s not even quite 6 in the morning, and he’s already in the café kitchen, shoving the first batch of chocolate muffins into the oven.

The whole room smells of sugar and spices, and the gramophone is playing soft jazz music. Taako’s hair is tied with a pink ribbon, and there are bags under his eyes from the lack of sleep, but he’s feeling better the longer he’s doing this.

So they had their first police raid, big deal. It had to happen eventually. So the dude he had been planning to send a free drink to turned out to be the one to blame for it. Lots of fish in the sea. It’s fine. The speakeasy survived, tonight is going to be great, and it's the guy's loss.

An hour later Ren finds him singing at the top of his lungs. Badly.

“Stress baking?” she asks, entering the kitchen with a smile.

“Good morning to you too. And no, not anymore.” He winks at her. “Just regular baking now.”

She reaches for an apron, and her smile fades quickly. “Taako… Those three last night... The ones who called police on us. I don’t think we want to mess with them.”

“Then we won’t mess with them.” He shrugs, and shoots her a look. “They came, they didn’t like us, they caused drama, they left. What are you so stressed about?” He only just managed to convince himself that everything’s fine, and here’s Ren to make him paranoid again. Damn it.

“Because! I heard rumours!” She ties the apron around her waist. “They’re powerful. They have connections. We should want them to like us.” She raises an eyebrow. “And I saw you looking at the guy.”

“You didn’t see anything, and I wasn't looking at anyone.” Taako bites his lip, pretending to be very busy with frosting. Ren rolls her eyes and gives up. She starts setting up her own working station.

They end up opening the café around 9, ready with fresh pastries, muffins, and pies. The first clients start arriving. Ren waits the tables. Taako remains at the cash register, occasionally making coffee or tea. Lup rushes in around 11:30, with a wild bedhead and messy clothes, not even trying to apologize for being late. All in all, a pretty standard day.

And in the late afternoon, the twins go through the secret phone booth door and head downstairs to prepare for the night.

Taako has been sweeping the floor for about five minutes when Ren shows up downstairs, looking very upset. She refuses to tell him what’s going on, insisting he has to come back to the cafe with her. And when he does, he freezes seeing the man waiting for him.

It’s the guy from last night, the one who came with those twins, the one dressed in black. The handsome one. Taako’s mouth is suddenly dry, his heart racing. He puts a hand on his hip, raises an eyebrow and opens his mouth to say something snarky and witty to the stranger, but the stranger speaks first.

“I’m sorry,” he says, with an expression like a kicked puppy, and Taako’s sarcastic retort dies on his tongue. “My siblings are… like that sometimes. They shouldn’t have called the police, it was a dick move. I just came to say that.”

Taako blinks. This takes him a moment to process. And then he smiles - his signature cocky grin.

“Of course it was a dick move,” he says, surprisingly harsh. The stranger recoils a bit. “You could have ruined us.”

The man fixes his eyes on the floor, fiddling with his sleeves nervously. “I know,” he mumbles, taking a step back. “Not my intention. Sorry.”

Taako looks him up and down, carefully considering all his options.

“Well, make it up to me by buying me a drink,” He suggests. Somewhere behind him Ren rolls her eyes. The stranger looks up at him in disbelief, and then smiles brightly, and Taako can’t help but notice that it’s a very nice smile.

“I’d love to.”

 

***

 

Ten minutes later they’re sitting on opposite sides of the bar, after Taako poured them both a drink, showing off his bartending skills - _just a little bit_ \- and getting quite the enthusiastic response. But the whole thing feels awkward now. Taako tucks a strand of hair behind his ear.

“I didn't even ask your name,” he realizes suddenly. The man smiles again.

“It's Kravitz.” He reaches for Taako's hand to shake it. His hands are cold. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too, Kravitz,” Taako replies, smiling back at him. He holds his hand a bit longer than he should. “I'm Taako. The pleasure is all yours.”

Kravitz laughs, and Taako takes a long sip of his drink, watching him carefully.

“So. What do you do, Kravitz?” he asks. It's a nice name. He enjoys saying it.

Kravitz lets out a long sigh. “I'm a mortician,” he replies. His tone of voice and his expression suggest he's dreading Taako's reaction. And it's Taako's turn to laugh.

“Is that why you're all… Like that?” he asks cheerfully, putting his chin in his hand. “Black clothes and stuff?”

“I just happen to think black clothes are elegant.” Kravitz crosses his arms defensively. “You know, this is not what people usually say. Usually they are either grossed out or start asking weird questions.”

Before Taako can reply, there's a loud sound of someone running down the stairs, and Avi bursts into the room. Taako glares daggers at him for interrupting. But he looks distressed as he approaches the bar.

“Johann just called,” he says weakly. “He's sick. He can't make it tonight.”

Taako's face falls. A long moment of silence passes. No Johann. No music. No vibe. No happy clients. No success. A hundred thoughts races through Taako's head as he struggles to find a solution.

“Who's Johann?” Kravitz breaks the silence, hesitant and quiet. Taako rubs his temples, closing his eyes.

“Our piano player,” he replies slowly. “We don't have a replacement for him.”

“Oh.” Kravitz bites his lip. “Well. I play a bit.”

Taako stares at him like he's an angel who just came down from the heavens. “Can you play jazz stuff for a few hours this evening?”

Kravitz nods. “I mean, I'm rusty. I don't know how good it's gonna be. But it's better than nothing, right?” He smiles nervously, clutching his glass tighter.

Taako grins, and leans in closer. “Oh, I could just kiss you right now,” he replies, clasping his hands in joy. Kravitz's smile widens, and he stares down at his drink.

“Can I go see him?” Avi asks suddenly, sounding surprisingly quiet. Taako raises one eyebrow, looking at him. “It's just… If he's sick… He might need some help. And anyone can sit at the door.” He glances nervously between Kravitz and Taako. “Please?”

Taako lets out a long, dramatic sigh, rolling his eyes. “Go to him. Tell him I hope he feels better soon.” Then he looks at Kravitz again with a lazy smile.

“This is going to be an interesting evening,” he says, and finishes his drink.


	2. Skullduggery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay Ao3 is gonna say that chapter coauthors are @maricharde and @TFLatte, but it's just @TFLatte, all by herself, bc Ao3 is silly and I can't post cocreators like I need to lmao  
> enjoyyyy~

Barry turned his collar up against the wind, wishing the weather was a little less suited to his mood. The gray clouds overhead threatened rain and he eyed them balefully. Maybe it would hold off until he could get inside. He already had a destination in mind, found after a few careful queries and, hopefully, affordable enough for a newly-unemployed archaeologist to drown at least a few sorrows.

It had taken months to get into one of Wheeler’s dig sites, and Barry had had every intention of taking full advantage of the opportunity. He’d been absorbing every bit of information he could, the grid-pattern search method so simple and obvious he couldn’t believe no one had thought of it before.

Then of course, he had gotten into an argument with Taylor over how dismissing the interesting design of the loom he’d found as being for ritual purposes was lazy and intellectually disingenuous and how _ furthermore _ , Taylor’s journals were derivative at best and-

Barry hadn’t liked the guy anyway.

Then again, he also hadn’t liked being thrown off the dig site. So there was that. At least in Britain he’d been able to get a drink without skulking around, but here he was. Barry nodded politely to the barista as he slipped into the empty café and made his way back to the phonebooth. She glanced over, giving him an automatic, slightly distracted smile, before returning her attention to the window she was occupied staring out of.

Down in the speakeasy itself( _ The Red Umbrella, hm, wonder where that name comes from _ ?) Barry snagged a small table off to the side and stretched out in the chair, rubbing his face with one hand. He needed to shave, badly, and he bet he looked awful.

 

Lup swept between tables, serving-smile never wavering even with her actual thoughts elsewhere as she mentally dismissed that shitty customer and her shitty taste in dresses. Taako was showing off behind the bar, to the delight of several patrons – she recognized one as the good tipper, and hoped she’d be in a giving mood tonight. The Red Umbrella was doing better and better, but they were still finding their feet, and-

Well, Lup knew as well as anyone how a few dollars could make a difference. Taako, from the flourish he put on Big Spender’s order, looked like he had it in mind too. He caught Lup’s eye and flashed her a grin, and she returned it, this one a lot more genuine than the charming customer-service smile she wore most of the night.

The guy in the corner table should be about ready by now, and she strolled over with her usual friendly grin. “Welcome to the Red Umbrella, my name’s Lup and I’ll be your waitress.” He was cute, sort of scruffy, but in a good way. He looked like he’d fit right in if you plopped him into a group of traveling explorers. “What can I get for you? If you want my advice, the Ward 8’s pretty great.”

He looked up, and oh, hey, hel _ lo _ very nice smile. Very nice, very  _ tired _ smile. “Hey. I, uh – yeah, I’ll, uh, I’ll take the Ward 8, that sounds good.”

“Good choice. Only person who knows our stuff better than me is my brother.” Lup winked, gesturing in Taako’s direction. “Sit tight, I’ll have it out for you in just a sec.” She wiggled her fingers in a wave and sauntered off with just a little more sway to it than usual. When she came back, he was at least sitting up, and nodded thanks to her as he took a long sip, eyes closing for a second. She took the opportunity to eye him up shamelessly, and when he opened them again she just grinned at him. “If you need anything, just ask.”

Barry watched Lup go, drumming his fingers on the table as she went.  _ You came for a drink, Barry, not to stare at pretty girls _ , he tried to tell himself, but –  _ wow _ . He forced himself to look away, not wanting his first impression to be “creepy guy in the corner who won’t stop staring at the waitress,” and took another pull of his cocktail. It  _ was _ good – his plan of drinking as much cheap booze as he could hold, and probably a little extra on top of that, suddenly seemed much less attractive. Maybe it was a good thing he’d seen her and briefly forgotten every kind of alcohol he knew. He could savor this.

Then the music changed and Barry had to change plans fast. He glanced back at Lup and the bartender scrambling to hide the alcohol and hoped they were as good at acting as they were with a drink.

 

A few nights later, Barry had returned to the Red Umbrella Speakeasy, relieved to see it still in business. From what he’d heard, the raid had come up empty, and nobody had been arrested, but it was still good to see it in business for himself, even if it was quieter this time. He pulled up a seat at a table and waved Lup down when she turned in his direction. She gave him a quick thumbs-up and finished dropping off a tray before heading over.

“Welcome back! Another Ward 8, or do you wanna branch out?”

Barry felt himself turning red. Sure, it wasn’t strange that she’d remember a customer, but remembering the drink he’d ordered seemed unusual, especially on a night that ended like that. “Uh - you know what, same again. You were right last time, it was great.”

“Of course I was.” Lup waved it off, grinning. “Be right back, then.”

A lot of people, still a bit spooked by the narrow miss, had stayed in tonight - or at least found somewhere else to drink. Lup could’ve decked those assholes for that, but of course they hadn’t shown their faces again. Too bad. 

Tonight was shaping up to be uneventful though, which gave her an opportunity. A few hours in, she dropped an empty tray behind the counter, told Taako she was taking ten, and strolled over to go chat up the cute new customer.

Barry looked up when Lup leaned against the table in front of him. “Hey. You mind?” She gestured to the chair and he shook his head quickly.

“No, no, feel free.” He’d expected her to take the chair somewhere else, but instead she just plopped into it.

“Good, my feet are killing me. So, you’re new around here, right? What’s your name?”

“I’m Barry. I used to live here, actually, but I...came back because of work, so.” He shrugged.

“So what do you do?” Lup crossed her legs and propped her chin on her hands to look at him.

He cleared his throat, a little nervously. “I’m actually an archaeologist,” Barry admitted. “In theory, anyway.” He braced himself to see her dismiss him as boring.

“Oh shit, really?” Lup laughed.

“What’s so funny?” Braced or not, that stung, and it must have showed because she hurriedly waved her hands.

“No, no, I just thought you looked like the rugged-explorer type when I saw you is all.” She grinned at him. “It’s a good look.” He blushed, and she immediately wanted to make him do it again.

“Well, uh, thanks. That’s. Very kind of you.” Then after a second, he looked back up at her and gave her a more confident grin. “That’s a good look on you.”

Lup blinked. “What?”

“The smile. The real one, I mean.”

This time it was her turn to blush.

 

It ended up being more like twenty than ten.

“You know, I couldn’t help noticing you didn’t charge that guy in the corner for that last drink.” Taako, briefly free of orders to fill, took an obnoxiously loud slurp of the soda under the counter, staring her in the eye. “It kinda raises some questions there,  _ Lulu _ .”

Lup stared him dead in the eye. “Oh, well, if we’re going there, what about tall dark and handsome you kept staring at the other night, hm? And then invited to _ play _ ?”

Taako coughed, breaking eye contact and clearing his throat. “Anyway-”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Lup elbowed him affectionately and picked up another tray.

 

Lup plopped down into the chair across from Barry as if their conversation last night had been thirty seconds ago.

“Can’t be that much archaeology to do in New York, though.”

Barry sighed, rubbing his temples. “Well, no. I was working in Great Britain till a couple weeks ago.”

Lup sat up. “Oh, there’s a story there, isn’t there? Come on, Barold, share.”

“Bar- you know what, never mind. You sure you want to hear it? It’s kind of a long story, and involves a lot of boring work-talk.” He gave her a measuring look. She just laughed, and his eyes were drawn to the line of her jaw as she did.

“Please. I guarantee you I’ve listened to more boring stories than you could ever tell me.” Lup rolled her eyes and Barry couldn’t help smiling.

“That sounds like a story too, and I’d like to hear it – but okay.” He delved into the explanation of what he’d been doing, and she listened intently, occasionally interjecting with questions – although more often she just wanted to make a snarky comment about one of his colleagues. He kept breaking off mid-sentence to laugh.

“…anyway,” he finally finished, “I had to come home after that. There wasn’t much else I could get out of being there.”

“Sounds rough.” Lup patted his arm. “Also sounds like your coworkers kinda sucked, so welcome back to the States.”

Barry snorted. “You’re not wrong, honestly, but at least over there you didn’t have to go through three layers of skulduggery to get a drink.”

Lup spluttered laughter. “ _ Skulduggery _ ? Holy shit, how are you a real person?”

“Maybe I’m not. Maybe I’m a ghost.” Barry was more than pleased with the way the joke made Lup’s grin widen.

“Well, ghosts had better be able to pay for their drinks tonight. Can’t comp you all the time.” There was no heat to the words though, and Barry just nodded.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got it covered. I didn’t expect  _ any _ free drinks, so I’m not gonna complain.” Clearing his throat, he continued. “So, what about you? What’s your story?”

“Oh, you know, my brother and I opened the place a month or so back, greased enough palms to get on our feet and went from there.” She kicked up her feet onto a chair, stretching out like a contented cat. “Figured we’d get in on the market while we could.” Barry tilted his head, waiting, and then blinked.

“So, uh, how’d you decide  _ this _ was your market, though?”

Lup glanced over her shoulder. “Aw, look, break time’s over,” she said without an ounce of surprise to it, but then she turned back and winked. “Guess you’ll just have to come back next time to hear the rest, huh?”

Barry paused, then laughed. “I guess I will.”

 

Lup was bustling around the café during a lull, wiping down tables and checking on condiments, when the door opened again. She turned to see who’d arrived and Barry, setting a bag down on a table, looked up and smiled at her.

“Hey. So do I tell you my order, or is this more of a self-service place?”

“Oh, I’ve got you.” Lup flipped open her little pocket notebook – which was completely blank, she didn’t even have a pen – with a flourish. “You want a minute to check out the selection, or?”

“I don’t know, you’ve got good taste. What do you recommend?” Fuck, his smile was so genuine, who gave him the right?

“Hmm,” Lup dragged out the noise, resting her hip against the table as she considered the question. “The blueberry pie’s fantastic,” she decided, and Barry nodded.

“Well, then I’ll take it.”

“Be right back, then.” Lup cast a quick glance around the café when she came back – still almost empty. Good.

“Oh, wow, that smells amazing.” Barry’s eyes lit up as Lup set the plate down in front of him. “You weren’t kidding.”

“I never kid about pie, Barry.” Lup grinned – being up early to help bake today had been  _ worth it _ .

“Do you listen to the radio much? Serials, that kind of thing?” Barry propped his chin on his hand, looking across the table at Lup.

“I mean, yeah, sometimes. We’re pretty busy, though, you know? Mostly it’s just on nights off, so I lose track of who’s who and what’s what.” Lup leaned back in the chair, looking inches from outright kicking her feet up to prop them on the table. 

“But you  _ do  _ like them?”

Lup shrugged. “Yeah, they’re fun. Why, you talent scouting?” She gave him the usual grin, the one that had been known to keep him up replaying the sight in his head - the one that, it seemed, came so easily whenever they talked. 

He laughed. “No - although you would have a good voice for radio. No, I just thought, uh, maybe, maybe Thursday you might want to, if you're not busy-“ Lup had propped her elbows on the table, resting her chin in her hands and blinking innocently at him. He sucked in a deep breath as subtly as he could. “I thought maybe you might want to come down to my apartment Thursday night and we could listen together?  _ Mystery House _ is on.” He very deliberately didn’t hold his breath as Lup gave him a thoughtful look.

Then her face broke into a grin. “Yeah, sure. See you at six?”

Barry couldn’t help grinning back. “Absolutely.”

 

The knock sounded like someone was trying to play the drums on his door, and Barry abandoned his pacing around an apartment he’d cleaned three times today to rush and open it. Barry was  _ pretty _ sure Lup had been striking a pose in the brief second between him opening the door and her immediately sweeping inside. “Hey, Bar. Nice place you got here.”

“Alright, well, you don’t have to lie,” Barry joked, and Lup laughed. “Do you want something to drink?”

“I mean it! It’s cozy. And water sounds good. So where do I sit?”

Barry motioned to two chairs on either side of the radio as it piped music into the apartment. “I’ll go get that water, just a second. The show’s starting any minute.”

When he came back from the kitchen, Lup had made herself comfortable, lounging in one chair with her feet up on the other, and he couldn’t help a laugh. “Wow, if I’m not careful, you’re going to take the place over, aren’t you?”

“Too late, I already have. Check the lease, it’s in my name.”

“You work fast.” Barry handed her the glass. “Can I at least keep living here? I  _ just _ got everything how I like it.”

“Only if you keep coming down to the Red Umbrella. Gotta get those repeat customers.”

“You know, I think I can do that.” Barry chuckled and sat down as Lup pulled her feet away - then immediately plopped them into his lap, giving him a look that practically dared him to do something about it. He wouldn’t have even if he could. Instead he leaned forward a little to fiddle with the volume and-

“Out of the mists of secrets, the truth will shine through. Welcome to  _ Mystery House _ ,” a voice intoned dramatically.

“Hey, is this a murder mystery, or a boring one?”

“The ones without murder aren’t boring!” Barry protested.

“They definitely are, Barold, who wants to hear about who stole the Duchess’ emeralds unless they also stabbed the Duke while he tried to sneak his mistress out?”

“That’s...specific.”

“I told you I listened  _ some _ times.”

A few seconds later, an imitation gunshot rang out from the speakers and Lup pumped her fist. “Yes! Murder mystery. Knew it.”

“You did,” Barry agreed, smiling at her. She caught his eye and went still for a second, before smiling back and settling down again.

During a break in the show, Lup took to theorizing about who the killer was. “It can’t be the cat burglar, guy like that wouldn’t risk the death penalty unless it was really important. Bet you a gin rickey he’s a red herring. I bet it’s the secretary. She’s suspicious.”

Barry watched her gesture, animated, words spilling out of her as if they couldn’t get into the open air fast enough. She really was beautiful, and smart, and fun- “Can I kiss you?” he blurted out, and then had to resist the urge to clap his hand over his mouth as she broke off and stared at him. “I - oh, hell, that was stupid wasn’t it? I’m sorry, if you want to leave, or-“

Lup snorted loudly. “Are you kidding? I thought you’d never ask.” And with that she stood up from the chair, plopped down onto the couch next to him, and reached over to pull his face close to hers. Barry lifted his hand to cup her cheek and draw her in the rest of the way, and then all he could think about was her lips on his, warm and soft and he could hardly  _ breathe _ , he was so happy.

They didn’t separate until the musical theme began to play and Lup pulled away, flapping a hand. “Oh hey it’s back! Come on, I want to prove I was right, listen.” Catching his eye, she winked. “We’ll talk after the show’s over.”

Barry smiled at her and turned his hand over in silent invitation. Lup put her hand in his and they fell silent again as the radio returned to tales of mystery, chairs scooted next to each other and the pair of them leaning close enough their shoulders almost brushed against one another. 

**Author's Note:**

> The phonebooth thing? Based on an actual speakeasy. Check it out: http://www.theblindcook.com/2017/01/10/the-speakeasy-experience-at-please-dont-tell-in-new-york/


End file.
